Rochelle's Secret
by Ashtrees
Summary: Rochelle Goyle has a secret about her appearance.
1. Chapter 1

**Rochelle's Secret**

Can anyone truly say that they are completely happy with their bodies?

I know that I'm not.

Okay, so at Monster High no one looks alike and when you have so many different monsters crammed together…well, it's asking for trouble. It seems like not a day goes by without a fight breaking out amongst the ghouls because someone slimed on another or brought their class assignment to life – you get the picture.

I dread walking down the corridors in between classes. The hurried, frantic shoving and pushing frenzy that always accompanies ghouls as they try to be on time for their next class, makes me feel sick with worry. Ghouls are supposed to walk down the corridors in an orderly calm fashion, but it never goes that way, even with Heath Burns and his friends doing their inadequate best as Safety Officers.

I always do what I have to in order to get ahead of everyone else. During the last five minutes of class I sneakily start to shove my pens and notebook back in my bag before tensing up and watching the agonisingly slow movement of the minute hand on the clock.

Four minutes to go…three…two…one…

With exactly thirty seconds to go I've already leapt out of my seat and dashed to the door. By the time the teacher has noticed and is about to say something the bell has rung anyway, but those few extra seconds make all the difference to me. I run along the corridor, one hand on my head. Moments later a tidal wave of ghouls spill out of their classrooms just behind me; I increase my pace, panting. Running doesn't come easy when your skin is as tough as stone and you have two solid wings jutting out of your back.

If only my wings were made out of a light skin and bone and had a much larger wingspan so that I could actually fly with them. Then I could neatly swoop and hover over all the other ghouls, the tips of my toes brushing over their heads, without fear of them knocking and bumping into me.

I catch the sight of Spectra descending through the ceiling and disappearing through the floor. I feel a stab of jealously. Her long violet hair is looking model-gorgeous as always, swirling around her like its caught in an underwater current. I wish I were a ghost like Spectra, elegantly moving through the walls and other ghouls, without having to suffer a hair out of place.

But, I don't dare stop to daydream for too long. If I don't hurry I'll be swallowed up in the crowd of ghouls and then my worst nightmare might actually happen…I couldn't stay at Monster High if that happened. I'd move back to Scaris and hide myself under a large rock.

Oh, man, today is a bad day! Why does the gym have to be so far from the English classrooms? It couldn't be further. At least I can cut across the campus outside instead of trying to navigate my way through a long series of narrow corridors.

"Hey, Rochelle, wait up!"

Frankie Stein is suddenly at my side, taking hold of my elbow. My hand instinctively tightens on my hair; Frankie can be quite boisterous at times and I don't want her to jostle me.

"Why do you always run out of class?" Frankie asks, practically jogging to keep up with me. "Hey, slow down! It's not like we're going to be late and I think my leg is coming loose."

Frankie practically drags me into the alcove under the stairs so that she can tighten the thread around her knee joint. I press myself against the wall feeling surprising safe and out of the way. It's not going to be fun re-joining the crowd, though.

"All done!" Frankie declares cheerfully, waggling her leg up and down.

I look at her in bemusement. I could never be that relaxed about my limbs suddenly dropping off without a moment's notice, as Frankie's seem to frequently do. She jumps up, doing a happy little twirl to check her balance.

Frankie is okay, I suppose, although I don't know her that well. We sort of opposites, I guess. She'd the youngest ghoul at Monster High, only a few months old and is as bouncy as a puppy. And just as clumsy too. On the other hand, I'm one of the oldest, perhaps _the_ oldest. Oh, I feel such an old ghoul! Decrepit, crumbling, falling apart…

Frankie takes hold of my wrist, dragging me along. "We are going to be late now!" she laughs. "But, don't worry; I'll explain it's my entire fault! Anyway, it's not like you ever take part. Why is that?"

I shrug my shoulders delicately and decline from answering. By now the corridors are mostly clear, thank goodness, but I'm worrying now that the teacher will make me run laps for being late, sick note or not.

We turn a corner and there is Ghoulia Yelps desperately trying to bend down close enough to the floor. Her ripped bag lies beside her and all its contents are strewn across the ground.

Ghoulia is a zombie so she can't move fast or easily. She doesn't do gym either. She must have been struggling for some time because she's allowed to leave each class ten minutes early (lucky thing) to get to the next one on time. I feel angry that no one else has stopped to help her, but she can be so stubborn at times and wants to do everything on her own. I hesitate; maybe she doesn't want help?

Frankie doesn't bother with such considerations and goes bounding over. She starts to quickly snatch up pens.

Ghoulia moans at her. I don't know much zombie, but I can see that she's not happy.

"Let us help," Frankie retorts.

Ghoulia rolls her eyes, but relents.

I go over to help too. It was easy to see why her bag ripped; it had been crammed fit to burst with a mixture of text books, comic books, notebooks and fiction. There's no way we could cram all of her things back into her broken bag.

"Why don't you keep your books in your locker, Ghoulia?" Frankie asks. "You need at least _two_ bags to carry all of these around with you!"

I happen to agree with Frankie, but Ghoulia groans and moans. She explains that her locker is hard to get to. I feel bad for her.

Frankie stands up, dropping some of the books into Ghoulia's arms.

"You can put your books into my locker for now, if you like," she says.

Ghoulia nods, turns and then wobbles. I would have tried to catch her, but my arms were full. Ghoulia, on the other hand, has had plenty of practises of how to fall safely. She lets go of her books, but her hand reaches out to my shoulder. She misses, grabbing a fistful of hair instead.

There is no time to even gasp as Ghoulia falls, pulling my hair away from my head as she goes.

"No!" I yelped, but that made no difference.

Ghoulia fell flat on her stomach. Her arm was stretched out, with my pink and blue striped wig still clutched in her hand, looking like a dyed-ferret.

We should have been asking if Ghoulia was okay and helping her up, but instead we all froze. My heart hammers so hard against my rib cage I'm surprised my chest doesn't crack open.

"Rochelle…" Frankie breathes.

Ghoulia moans, finally letting go of the wig. She's trying to get her feet, but ends up sprawling forward in an untidy heap. Frankie steps towards me, inadvertently stepping on my wig.

Both of them are staring, staring at my smooth, bold head and thinking how hideous I look.

And then everything becomes a million times worse.

"Rochelle, you're bold!" a shrieking voice cries.

I turn around and there is Toralei Stripe and the Werecat Twins. The Twins stand behind Toralei with pitying looks on their identical faces, but Toralei looks delighted. She's such an awful gossip and this is bigger than any other rumour she's spread before.

"All this time you've been wearing a wig!"

I feel burning hot tears fill my eyes. My head feels horribly cold and exposed to the air, as if every ghoul in the school can see it.

This can't be happening. No way can this be happening. This is my worst nightmare happening.

I snatch up the wig, throwing it haphazardly back on knowing that I haven't done it right, and then I run and run, as fast as I can.

I hear Frankie and Ghoulia call after me. I know that Frankie could easily catch up with me, but she doesn't know the layout of all the secret passages like I do. I bump into ghouls who are late for their classes, but I don't slow down. They must think that I'm late and running to class. I know that I'm not thinking straight, but somehow my feet are taking me to the secret spiral staircase, hidden behind the phantom wall on the third floor. It leads straight to the roof.

This is the worst day of my life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I sit on the sloped roof of the belfry with my knees drawn up to my chest. It is a quite a drop to the ground, but heights have never bothered me; in fact, I find heights comforting, as all gargoyles do. It's in our blood to observe and protect the people below us.

It has always been a hobby of mine to sit up here and watch the ghouls milling around on the ground, looking like indistinctive blobs, but I get no joy from it today.

Frankie, Ghoulia, the Werecat Twins and, worst of all, Toralei, all discovered that I have to wear a wig. Which probably means that the whole school knows by now. I shall have to live in this bell tower forever, hiding in the shadows and never showing my face and bold head to any ghoul again.

Fortunately, I am a gargoyle and could easily survive up here. The school could hire me as a bell ringer and I could train the bats to bring me books and food and anything else I might need.

I suppose that really I should consider myself lucky that no one has found out before. Some days I wondered how they could not know. I am made of stone – how could I grow hair? Even my eyebrows are drawn on.

Hair is important to a gargoyle. When you can grow none of your own and you spend so much of your time looking down onto the tops of ghouls' heads – well, we consider it to be a ghoul's most important feature. We daydream about it, we _lust_ for it. We long to be able to grow long, silky locks of our own and have our partners run their fingers through it…

I run my fingers through my own hair…my _fake_ hair. It took me a long time to settle on its colour. Blue, red, purple or green – I wanted my hair to be bright, like all the other gargoyles my age. My parents weren't so happy with my final choice of girly pink. The blue stripes came later. They wanted me to choose a "sensible" colour, like mud brown, the shade of aunty's beaten up shoes. But, I _knew_ what I wanted. To be noticed, admired and liked. You can't do that when you're as bold as an egg.

"Hey, Rochelle," called a soft voice.

Frankie carefully clambered her way onto the roof beside me. Ghoulia was behind her and, thankfully, made no attempt to follow her. She held out her hand to me.

"Why don't you come back in and we can talk about this?" she pleaded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

I follow Frankie back inside the belfry. She doesn't even wait for me to catch my breath before she starts garbling her piece.

"It's okay that you don't have hair. Everyone has something that they don't like about themselves. I really hate this scar on my face. Any anyway maybe Toralei won't tell any ghoul –"

Fortunately, Ghoulia shuts her up by poking her mouth with a long finger.

[You look beautiful without your wig. I've always known you would be] Ghoulia moans in zombie.

I stare at her. "You mean you've always known?"

Ghoulia shrugs modestly. Of course, she would know. She is the smartest ghoul in the school.

"She's right," Frankie chipped in. "You are beautiful, Rochelle. With or without your wig. And if anyone bullies you for it then they're the ones with the problem."

I sigh. "Maybe. But, what does it matter now that ghouls know? Every ghoul in school will want to see me without my hair. It will be all I'm known for. I don't want to live with that kind of attention."

[It's your choice. You can be seen with your hair or without it. But, whichever you choose – be proud. Walk tall. It will soon be yesterday's news and then the ghouls won't care anymore. Well, most of them. Some will always give you grief.]

I look at Ghoulia and I nod. I know she's right. I'm still scared, though.

"Your ghoul-friends will always be around for you," Frankie adds.

oOo

The next day I leave my dorm with my heart beating hard in my chest. I have been awake all night differing about my decision. Every time I had thought that I had made my mind up, I had changed it again. Leaving my room was the hardest thing to do. Several times I considered not going to classes and spending the day hiding in my bed and catching up on my reading with Roux. But, Ghoulia was right. If I was ever to survive this I had to walk tall and proud. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and left my room.

Every ghoul stared at me. I was hard to miss with my shocking blue hair, a wig I've owned for a while but never had the bravery to wear. I heard whispered comments about hair dye and I smiled. The rumour obviously hadn't spread so far yet. But, others yelled out things like: "Take your wig off, Boldly!"

I faltered, fighting the urge to flee, but I kept going, making it to my locker.

Heath Burns was the first to ask a direct question. He sidled shyly up to me and cleared his throat. "So, you, uh, wear a wig, right?"

"Yes," I answered tightly.

"Can I see? You, without your wig, I mean."

"No, you may not!" I snap and closed my locker door on his fingers.

The next ghoul to ask is Spectra, on the hunt for a good story as always.

"I would like to run your story," she said, floating up through the sink in the girls' washroom. "With photos of you showing off all your different wigs. It'll be like a fashion shoot. Oh, and with ones without your wig, of course."

"_Partir!"_ I snarl in French. "Go!"

"Excusez-moi," she huffs before disappearing into the ceiling.

Ghoulia may have said that I look beautiful without my wig and that I should walk proud even if I don't wear it, but she also said that it was my choice and I'm choosing not to let anyone see me without it. That's my decision and my head is private, not the latest craze for every ghoul to stare at and take photos and text about.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Ghouls stared at my new hair, occasionally giggled, but mostly seemed uninterested.

I passed Toralei in the corridor just after the final bell.

"I hope your head doesn't get too warm under that wig," she said.

"Did you spend all night and day thinking up that one?" I retorted. "Really, you are such a clever kitty."

She and the Were-twins glared at me, but said nothing else. I let out shaky breath. Heath Burns bumped into me on his way to death-ball practise.

"Don't worry," he said. "If they try anything then just let me know. I'll make sure their tails get burnt!"

"Thanks."

I hear a moan from the other side of the corridor. Ghoulia raises a stiff arm, holding her fist closed – her vision of a thumbs up. I smile, raising my own fist.

Things aren't perfect. Some ghouls will treat me kindly, others will ridicule me, and others will be curious about my bold head. But, I know now that I can stand up for myself and walk with dignity and confidence. And if on the bad days when I can't do those things, when I just want to run and hide, then my friends will cheer me up and look out for me.


End file.
